


Batair

by LolaBleu



Category: The Mara Dyer Series - Michelle Hodkin
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:51:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LolaBleu/pseuds/LolaBleu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yeah, yeah, you’re so virile you knocked me up with twins, and I’m officially a land-whale. Can we go get food now?” Mara asks impatiently as Noah tries to make sense of why she's waking him up at three in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Batair

**Author's Note:**

> for yayyaj & goldandglorymade
> 
> it's not what I originally planned, but this is how it came out. hope you guys like it :)

"Noah," Mara says, gently shaking him.

"Mmm," he mumbles in his sleep, burying his face in his pillow.

"Noah!" she says louder, impatient.

"Mmph, I'm up! Is everything okay?" he slurs sleepily, his eyes reeling around to focus on her in the dim light of their bedroom.

"I'm fine."

"Is there a reason you're waking me up at," he rolls over to look at the clock glowing on the nightstand, "2:48 in the morning, then?"

"I'm hungry," she says sheepishly.

"Of course you are," he sighs.

"It's your fault," she snaps, defensive.

"It is," he says, a cheshire grin lighting up his face even in the dark as his hand smooths across her very prominent belly.

"Yeah, yeah, you're so virile you knocked me up with twins, and I'm officially a land-whale. Can we go get food now?"

"You're lovely," he murmurs, kissing her cheek before kicking the blankets away and scrounging around on the floor for his pants.

"So what do you want to eat?" Noah asks conversationally as they descend the stairs on the way to the first floor, passing the back parlor, the front parlor, the dining room, the kitchen… their house is ridiculous, which, of course is Noah's fault.

A month after Mara told him she was pregnant Noah told her he had a surprise for her, too. The 'surprise' turned out to be a multi-story mansion in Turtle Bay Gardens, a quiet enclave near the U.N. building that is notable because it more or less has it's own little park, enclosed and shared by all the home that ring it.

When she had looked at him, wide-eyed and incredulous, he had shrugged and said they'd need the room; they were having twins, after all. She wasn't sure they needed four stories of room, but he was so happy and he wanted to give her this gift, so she let him.

She let him baby-proof and turn the sitting room off their master bedroom into the nursery, but she drew the line at him wiping away her morning sickness and aches and pains because she couldn't give him back the things she took from him to do it. It sucked, being sick, but she told him that if it took even one day away from him being in their children's lives, the cost was too much and he couldn't argue with that. Instead he had to content himself with holding her hair back as she puked and rubbing her feet when they were sore, just like any other husband would.

"Batair, I think. Quail sounds good," she says vaguely, looking up and down their quiet block as Noah locks the front door. "You should hurry, Haandi closes at four."

"It's a ten minute drive and we have an hour to get there, I think we'll be okay," he teases before knotting his hand with hers as they walk down the block to their car. A city of mass commuters and parking spaces are still hard to find.

It's a quiet ride as the navigate out of Turtle Bay and towards Murray Hill, one of Noah's hand on the steering wheel, the other still wrapped around Mara's.

"Can you hear them?" she murmurs, her free hand resting on her stomach.

"Not right now."

"They don't sound like me though, when you've heard them? They don't sound dissonant?" she asks worriedly. She has so many more worries now then she did before. She worries if the babies will be healthy. She worries if she will be. She worries is Noah will kill himself trying to save her, or them. But tonight, right now, she worries that they will be like her.

"No, they don't."

"What do they sound like?"

"Themselves," he smiles. "Different from you. And from me too, for that matter."

Though their neighborhood might have been quiet, they do live in the city that never sleeps, and the area of Curry Hill - a group of Indian restaurants and businesses a couple of miles away in Murray Hill - isn't, despite the hour.

Mara fidgets impatiently as they search for a parking spot, her eyes continuously flicking between the clock on the dashboard and the restaurant that is their destination.

"Why don't you go in and order and I'll meet you," Noah offers.

Mara barely has time to say a quick, "okay," before she's stumbling out of the car and into the night. Her feet hurt and her back aches, but her mouth waters at scents of spices and grilling meat and fresh, warm naan as soon as she steps into the restaurant. There was a time when all of that would have made her vomit, but now it just makes her hungry.

The woman working the register smiles at her warmly when Mara steps up; her and Noah have been late-night regulars lately. She orders the batair she wanted, and a lot more besides.

"For here or to go?" she asks crisply, ringing the order up.

"For h-," The word dies on Mara's lips because across the restaurant, a dingy little booth all to himself, is Abel Lukumi. It's been years since she's seen him, but he never changes.

"Ma'am?" the cashier prompts, drawing Mara's attention once again.

"To go," she says firmly.

She's barely aware of the cashier handing over the receipt and her change. She shoves both in the pocket of her jacket blindly and takes a deep, steadying breath; she never runs into Lukumi by accident.

More than anything she wants Noah here, now, but he's no where to be seen, and that's probably Lukumi's doing too, so she steels herself and tries not to waddle too much as she walks over to him and perches on the edge of the bench seat across from him.

"Hello, Professor," she says coolly, hoping it unnerves him a little, the shared memory of him she has with her grandmother.

"Hello, Mara," he greets evenly, though he frowns at her stomach.

"What?" she asks, wrapping an arm around it protectively.

"I wish you had made different choices."

"Well, we didn't," she snaps.

"Clearly."

They sit in silence for a long time before he says, "They won't be gifted. Or cursed."

"Will they live? Will they be healthy?" she demands.

He quirks a brow at her, questioning, before he says, "Why wouldn't they be?"

She ignores his questions and spouts more of her own because she needs to know, and she only knows one person who can see the future. "What about me? Will Noah…"

"It will be fine," he says, making a little motion with his hand that's so soothing she relaxes.

Mara releases a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "Thank you," she says quietly.

He looks at her expectantly, like he's waiting for more questions, but like her grandmother, she's never quite sure what to ask, so she asks the first thing that pops into her head, even though it's a vague, half-formed thought. "Kells thought twins…," she trails off.

"She was wrong, thinking twins would mirror each other's abilities, one the Shadow and the other the Light." It's the most information he ever offered her of his own free will. "She was wrong about a great many things though."

"Yes, she was."

Lukumi dabs delicately at the corners of his mouth before he pushes up and out of the booth. He passes Noah on the way in, casting him a disappointed look that carries the weight of centuries.

Noah makes a beeline for her, crouching before her with both his hands on her stomach like he can undo whatever damage the old man might have inflicted in his absences, and he  _can_ , matter of fact, but it's unnecessary.

"I'm fine," Mara reassures him, her hand caressing his stubbly cheek. "Really."

"What did he want?" Noah asks tersely.

"To tell me that they won't be like us, I think." She always feels slightly confused after these encounters, like Lukumi's talking to her in a language she doesn't really understand.

"So, they'll be normal?"

"I guess," she shrugs.

Noah opens his mouth to say something else, but just then the cook shouts that their order is up, and instead he helps Mara stand and grabs the plastic bags piled on the counter, giving her a wry smile as he does.

The drive home is quiet, and it's not until they're sitting in their kitchen, and Mara is picking at the batair she so desperately wanted earlier, that he asks her what's wrong.

"Are you disappointed, that they won't be like us? That they'll just be carriers of the gene and nothing more, like my brothers?"

"What? No! Why?" he exclaims, his face a mask of confusion.

"I just… thought you might be, that's all," she says evasively. Even though she's never told Noah she knows - through her grandmother's memories - that his mother loved him because he was her son, but she loved him too because of what he could do.

"You're being ridiculous," Noah says, not unkindly, as he takes her face in his hands and kisses her lips gently. His hands flit down to her belly next. "I don't care if they're like us. I care if they're healthy, if they're happy, if they're loved. They could have hooves and a tails as long as they're happy, though that might make changing diapers a challenge," he finishes and kisses her nose.


End file.
